The Education of Bobby Beldon
by kgmohror
Summary: Release of a "behind-the-scenes" teaser for Season 3 of Hallmark's Cedar Cove prompted this speculation on Bob & Peggy's history and future. Peggy's a new woman since the revelation of what happened 20 years ago - but how will Bob adjust to her newfound strength? In this story, we discover that between soulmates, some things never change.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Bob Beldon had a stomp in his step as he crossed Cedar Cove's main avenue, a newly purchased box of two-penny nails under his arm. His stomach growled, and he growled back; Peggy had left him this morning with a box of Wheaties and an empty bowl instead of his usual steak and eggs. They'd had a tiff, something that had been happening with some regularity of late. In fact, it seemed to Bob that there had been more tension between them in the last few weeks than in the previous 20 years of their marriage. Something had changed between the Beldons.

Bob frowned at the memory of Peggy breezing out of the kitchen this morning, dressed to the nines in a new, powder-blue suit and pearls. He didn't begrudge his wife's sudden new enthusiasm for starting a catering business – hell, he was proud of her gumption. And if it meant there would be even more of her delicious baked goods around the house … well, he couldn't complain about that.

Nope, he was all for whatever made his Peggy happy. It just surprised him that she hadn't consulted him about it before she went all gung-ho and had business cards printed up. She used to ask his advice about things. Now she just went ahead and said and did what she wanted. "I've found my voice," she'd told him. "I'm reclaiming my power."

What the hell did that mean?

Rounding the corner outside Moon's Place, Bob spied the object of his musings sitting at one of the outside patio tables, a mug of coffee in her hands and a pleased look on her face. It caught him up short for a moment – she looked so beautiful … so polished. Hard to believe a woman like that was married to an old salt like him. He was about to call out when Moon walked up to her table and sat down across from her. Peggy seemed pleased with his company; Bob watched her smile, then toss her head back and laugh at something Moon said.

Without conscious thought, Bob suddenly found himself striding toward the pair. He felt blood pounding in his ears and anger like a coiled cobra in his gut. As he reached the table where Peggy and Moon were chatting like a couple of old school friends, Bob slammed his box of nails down on the table. The force rattled the silverware and sloshed liquid out of the coffee cup Peg had set down. Both Peggy and Moon looked up in astonishment.

"Bob!" Peggy began, but her husband had fixed his attention on the grizzled proprietor of the coffee shop.

"What do you think you're doing with my wife!" he demanded, and Moon responded with a quizzical stare.

"Good afternoon to you, too, Bob," Moon said mildly. "Peggy and I were having a business meeting. Would you care to join us?"

Bob glared back at the man, the old hippie's failure to look suitably intimidated stoking the former fisherman's ire even hotter. "Yeah? Didn't look like business to me."

"Bob!" He felt a surprisingly strong grip on his wrist and looked to see his wife staring up at him, her expression equal parts shock and embarrassment. "What's the matter with you?" she hissed, casting a quick glance around at the other customers, who were surreptitiously watching the confrontation with the prurient interest typical of strangers witnessing a public spectacle.

Somewhere in the back of Bob Beldon's mind, his rational self was beginning to realize that this tirade was probably not a good idea. But when he heard Peggy murmur quietly, "I'm sorry about this, Moon," rational Bob's advice was drowned out by jealous Bob's harsh retort.

"He's the one who's going to be sorry, if he doesn't stay the hell away from my wife!"

Peggy abruptly stood up. When she spoke, her voice was very controlled, though Bob detected a slight tremor. "If you'll excuse us," she said. Her hand still gripping her husband's wrist with vise-like force, Peggy tugged Bob away from the table, off the patio and onto the sidewalk.

She released his wrist then and took a long, slow breath. Bob could see she was trembling, though it was clearly with anger, not fear. In fact, he'd never seen his wife so furious.

"What was that all about? How dare you come barging in and act like some kind of caveman," she snapped. "Have you completely lost it, Bob Beldon?"

"Apparently you think so," he retorted. "If you're looking to trade me in for a new model, I'd think you could do a hell of a lot better than Moon."

Peggy simply stared at him a few seconds, her mouth agape. "You know I was here to talk with moon about providing muffins and pastries for his morning crowd," she said finally. "I told you where I was going when I left this morning." A sudden thought struck her. "Did you follow me?"

"No, of course I didn't follow you. I just saw you sitting there, and then Moon came over and … and …"

Peggy crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows. "And what, Bob?" The coldness of her tone was like a dash of ice water and Bob involuntarily took a step back.

"And …" With rational Bob shouting warnings from the back of his cranium, Peggy's husband clutched his fraying rage around him like a ragged blanket. "And I don't happen to like my wife gallivanting around town, dressed up like some executive. Are you too good to be an innkeeper's wife anymore, Peg?"

The look that crossed over her face was so bleak, so wounded, that Bob wished instantly that he could take back his reckless words. But it was too late.

"In case you've forgotten, Bob Beldon, you don't own me, just because I have your last name. Now I have a meeting to get back to," she said, turning away. "We'll talk about this later at home."

Bob watched her walk, with great dignity, back to toward Moon's. Rational Bob was hammering against the front of his skull, shouting at him to go after her. Instead, he walked slowly back to his pick up and drove back to the Thyme & Tide.

* * *

Bob spent the remainder of the afternoon trying to finish a custom birdhouse in his shop (the reason he'd gone to town in the first place). But after the third time he'd hammered his own thumb he decided he was too distracted to make a good job of it. Feeling out of sorts and off balance, he cleaned his tools and put them away, then wandered out into the yard. Peggy wasn't home yet. That made him a little uneasy. She would be coming home, right?

The memory of his outburst hours earlier had been hanging over him like a black cloud all day, now assuming a weight that made his shoulders sag and his head bow as he made his way slowly to the glider swing under the old oak at the back of the yard.

He sat down and pushed against the ground with his booted feet to set the swing moving. It creaked from disuse and Bob made a mental note to get out the WD-40. He didn't feel up to fixing it just now, though. The swing slowly came to a halt and he didn't make it go again. Instead, he just sat with his broad, weathered palms on his knees and stared off into the distance, to where the country road turned off into the Thyme & Tide's driveway. Peg would come home that way.

After a few moments of fruitless watching, Bob sighed and leaned against the back of the swing, resting the back of his neck against the lip of the varnished wood. He'd made the swing for Peggy for their 30th wedding anniversary. Almost 10 years ago now. Glancing at the empty place beside him on the bench seat, he wished they'd spent more time in it since then. He closed his eyes, finally letting the day's events crowd fully into his mind. The images were accompanied by a roiling disgust with himself that churned in his belly.

What a blockhead he'd been.

Not that that was anything new. God knows he'd made an ass of himself often enough over the years, going all the way back to the moment he'd first set eyes on his future wife.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The young man stood atop a small rise near the seashore, surveying the scene before him. He was just 18, with wavy, chestnut-colored hair, a physique that was boyishly slim but well-muscled for a male of his age, and slightly down-turning hazel eyes that gave him a puppydog look the girls found irresistible. Not to mention the dimples that punctuated his brilliant smile (He actually had two sets of dimples, but only a select few had had a chance to admire his less public assets.) A light breeze ruffled his almost shoulder length locks – God, how his Dad hated his hairstyle – and Bobby Beldon adjusted the faded terrycloth beach towel he'd slung around his neck.

It was early June of 1967, the beginning of the last carefree summer of Bobby's life, though he didn't know it yet. A recent graduate of Cedar Cove HS, he knew his Dad expected him to join him full time on the boat in the fall. The boy hadn't yet worked up the courage to break the news that he planned to enlist instead. After a lifetime in quiet Cedar Cove, he was eager for adventure. College wasn't an option; though intelligent, Bobby's grades reflected the greater priority he placed on girls, sports, cars and hanging at the beach, in that order.

Now, with a couple of days off from his summer job gutting fish while the fishing fleet was out to sea, he strode with easy confidence down the bank to the beach. Immediately he was surrounded by a familiar crowd of teenage girls, with whom he laughed and flirted a few moments before making his way to a group of his buddies standing knee deep in the surf, debating whether the waves were worth hauling out their boards. The natural leader of his clique, Bobby would make the final determination of the afternoon's agenda. He scanned the horizon, noted the placid swell, and frowned. "Those waves wouldn't give even my grandma a thrill," he judged, then grinned. "Looks like it's a day for socializing."

He cocked his head toward the beach, where the young female population of Cedar Cove had artfully arranged themselves for the benefit of the boys. Some were standing in little clusters, their bikinis showing off their still slightly pale flesh (perennially cloudy Washington State wasn't the tanning capital of the world). Others were sitting or lying on beach towels. Bobby scanned the assembly, knowing he had his pick of the beach babes.

Which of the girls would he drop his towel next to today? There was red-haired Barbara. Hotter than hell, but chattered constantly. His gaze moved on. Linda was nice, but he'd gone out with her last week; didn't want to give an impression he was interested. From the middle of one of the groups, Annette caught his eye and shifted slightly to better display her long legs and the ample contents of her bikini top. Bobby raised his eyebrows slightly in response to her come-hither. Annette was a friendly girl. Very friendly. A slow smile spreading across his boyish face, Bobby began to saunter in her direction. Decision made.

Before he reached his quarry, however, his attention was caught by a sudden chorus of high-pitched female giggles – the unmistakable mating call of the American teenage girl. He glanced to his side and saw a trio of girls sitting on beach towels in a row, chatting animatedly. He recognized two of them: Marilyn Peters and Laurie Piper, classmates from CCHS. The third girl was a stranger. She had long, blond hair and a slender, well-proportioned figure. She sat with legs outstretched, balancing on her arms as she turned sunglasses toward the sky. Basking.

Bobby was … intrigued.

Abruptly he veered away from his previous course, oblivious to Annette's disappointed pout and the smug smirks of the girls around her, and made his way to where Dean Marshall and Joe Boogard were still pondering their options at the edge of the water.

"What's up? Annette give you the brush?" Dean asked as Bobby joined them.

"Ha! That'll be the day," Joe guffawed.

Bobby shrugged. "Changed my mind." His thong sandals toed the wet sand with deliberate casualness. "So … who's the new blond?" He nodded in the general direction of the three girls. The girl was now lying flat on her towel, soaking up the rays in every pore of her glorious body, which glistened with Coppertone. Joe and Dean's grins broadened.

"That's Peggy Callaghan. She's from Orchard Bay. Laurie's cousin, I think," Joe provided. As Bobby digested this information, Dean gave him a playful slug in the arm. "Might as well forget it, chief. She's not your type."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"She goes to Incarnation, the Catholic girls' school in Tacoma."

Bobby lifted his brows speculatively. "A nice girl, huh?" He studied her lithe form appreciatively. Just then she lifted her head up and looked toward the shore. Apparently she noticed his stare, because she lifted her sunglasses slightly, then turned her head to say something to Laurie beside her. They both laughed, the blond lay back down on her towel again.

"You know I'm a man who likes a challenge," Bobby said. "See 'ya later, fellas."

"Good luck!" he heard Dean call as he started across the warm sand. Bobby smiled to himself. Good luck? As if he'd need it.

With the sixth sense that teenagers develop around the opposite sex, Marilyn seemed to sense Bobby's approach. She sat up and nudged Laurie, who gave the new girl a little tap on the arm and all three girls were sitting with their arms around their knees by the time Bobby reached them.

"Hey, Laurie, Marilyn," he said, deepening his natural baritone slightly. "How's it hanging?"

"Just fine, Bobby," Laurie answered. "What are you up to these days?"

"Oh, you know … just hangin' loose." There was a slightly awkward pause as the girls looked up at him expectantly. He cleared his throat. "Err … Marilyn, how's your brother? He shipped out for 'Nam, didn't he?"

"Yeah. We got a letter from him last week. So far all he's done over there is sit around the barracks playing cards and hitting the local bars in Saigon. Says it's the best summer of his life."

"That's cool. I'm joining up at the end of the summer." Bobby observed the blond look at him sharply at that, but he couldn't decipher her expression.

"Who's your friend, Laurie?" Bobby ventured now.

"This is my cousin, Peggy Callaghan. She's staying the summer with us while her folks are in Europe. Peggy, this is Bobby Beldon. He was top jock at our high school."

Bobby puffed up a little. "Aw, I lettered in a few sports, that's all. No biggie."

The blond apparently agreed with his assessment, as she did not seem impressed. She'd turned her attention from him and was gazing out to sea, almost as if he weren't even standing right in front of her. Bobby felt his confidence waver just a tiny bit. "Nice to meet you, Peggy," he said. "I hope you'll enjoy your summer here in sleepy old Cedar Cove."

"I'm sure I will," she answered politely, her gaze flickering to his only briefly before returning to the shore.

"Maybe I could show you around some of the sights," the boy suggested. "I've lived here all my life, so I know all the hot spots."

Now Peggy turned her full attention on him. Her smile was polite, but thin. "Thank you, but I expect to be pretty busy. And I'm sure Laurie's family will take me to all the places I might be interested in."

Bobby felt a small thud in his chest. Had this girl just blown him off? Impossible! Well, she was new and clearly didn't realize what a coveted prize a date with Bobby Beldon was. He was sure Laurie would fill her in later. She'd be kicking herself then.

"Oh … right. Okay. Well, I'll probably be seeing you around." Bobby hated the little squeak in his voice. What was it about this girl that made him feel like such a dumb kid? He stood, shifting his weight from one sandal to the other until she finally looked up again. "Yes, I'm sure I will." She got up abruptly and tucked her towel and suntan lotion under her arm. "Laurie, your mom wanted us home for lunch, didn't she? We'd better get going." Without another word, she turned on her heel and picked her way delicately across the sand toward the parking lot. Laurie and Marilyn gave Bobby a warm, slightly embarrassed smile as they gathered their things.

"She's kind of shy," Laurie offered lamely. "Anyway, it was nice to see you, Bobby."

He nodded, his gaze still fixed on the gently swaying form of Peggy Callaghan walking away from him. He stood there until all three girls disappeared over the bank, feeling a heat around his ears that had nothing to do with the sun beating down. He felt like a dufus. Had he actually stammered a little? He thought of the girl's cool expression and was suddenly irked. Fine. He didn't give a damn for the opinion of some girl who thought she was something special because she came from Orchard Bay and went to a private school.

Bobby pondered his next move. He couldn't go slinking back to Joe and Dean with his tail between his legs. He scanned the beach. Annette was still there, looking glum on her beach towel. Bobby straightened his shoulders and marched in her direction, gratified to see her face light up at his approach. Take that, Peggy Callaghan, he thought. By that evening, making out like crazy with Annette in the backseat of his car, Bobby Beldon had completely forgotten about the stunning blonde from Orchard Bay.

Almost.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Bobby was back at the beach the next day, and so was Peggy Callaghan. Not that he gave her the time of day. The surf was up (well, as high as it ever got in the Sound). With his board under his arm, Bobby walked very pointedly past the new girl without glancing in her direction and waded out into the surf. Waist deep, he flung himself on his board and started paddling out. He resisted the urge to glance behind him to see if she was watching and waited for the perfect wave, a big one that would allow him to really show off his technique. He had no interest in this snooty out-of-town girl, but she might as well see what she was missing.

Bobby let one wave pass by, then another. The other guys had already grabbed their waves and taken rather leisurely rides back to shore. Bobby lingered, treading water with his arms draped over his board, scanning the horizon. Finally he saw it: a rolling hill of ocean somewhat higher than those that came before. He turned his board and hoisted himself onto it, feeling his muscles tense as the powerful surge lifted boy and board together. In another second he was on his feet, hanging 10, using his natural grace and core body strength to carve a zig-zag path across the face of the wave.

The shore was a fast-approaching blur in front of him, but Bobby knew his ride would be the focus of attention on the beach. He shot through the curl and came out ahead of the wave, pushed into the wedge of sand where land met sea. As his board slid to a stop just short of shore, Bobby executed a graceful hop off, running his hand through his wet hair and flashing the assembled crowd of admirers one of his dazzling smiles. As expected, everyone on the beach was agog at his skill.

 _Almost_ everyone.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bobby saw that Peggy Callaghan had her head down, digging for something in the bottom of her beach tote. He was pretty sure she hadn't even seen his triumph. Several of the girls and one or two of his guy friends gathered around to congratulate him as picked up his board and slogged onto the dry sand. Snatching up his towel, he ignored his fan club and stalked up the beach to his car. He'd lost his taste for surfing for the day.

* * *

The next day, Sunday, Bobby astonished his mother by offering to accompany her to Mass. He wasn't a heathen, as his devout mom described his church-averse Dad, but apart from Christmas and Easter, the young man hadn't darkened the church door too often since his Confirmation three years before. Bobby was glad his mom was too thrilled at his sudden interest in his immortal soul to ask any questions. In truth, Bobby wasn't sure himself what compelled him to put on a clean white shirt and tie, carefully tame his unruly mane and polish his dress shoes. Nor was he inclined to scrutinize his motives for scanning the pews as he came through the back door of St. Ignatius.

She was there with the Piper family on the left-hand side, six pews from the front. Genuflecting a little awkwardly, Bobby slid into the pew two rows back, followed by his mother. When the congregation stood for the opening hymn, Bobby saw that Peggy Callaghan was wearing a modest, sleeveless, pale green dress and white, wrist-length gloves. Her pale, golden hair fell in a glossy curtain over her shoulders and she wore a little pillbox hat.

Afterwards, Bobby Beldon couldn't have given much of an account of the day's sermon, or of anything else about the hour he spent kneeling and rising on cue, reciting the familiar responses and filing into the center aisle for communion. His attention was fixed on the slender figure ahead of him. Bathed in a faint pink glow from the adjacent stained-glass window, Peggy looked vaguely angelic, the young man thought. From his vantage point, he occasionally glimpsed her delicate profile as she bent her head over her missal. He could pick out her voice, a clear, bell-like soprano, during the hymns. He was mesmerized.

Trudging back from Communion, trying to dissolve the pasty wafer on his tongue without chewing as he'd been taught, Bobby stole a sidelong glance as he passed by her pew. To his surprise, she was doing the same thing – and he could have sworn he saw the ghost of a genuine smile on her lovely face before she hastily dipped her forehead to her steepled hands resting on the pew in front of her, suddenly deeply occupied in fervent prayer. It was at about that moment that Bobby Beldon decided a little religion could be a mighty uplifting thing.

A young man's newfound piety is easily tested, though, and so it was with Bobby. Sean Beldon's boat came into harbor later that day with a hold full of salmon and steelhead, and his son spent the next 10 days on the Windsprite's deck, knee deep in guts and scales. After a 12-hour day on the boat, he'd stumble home with only enough energy to shower off the stink, gobble down a sandwich and fall into bed.

On Sunday morning, Bobby slept in.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Before the fishing fleet had even cleared the horizon on the following Monday, Bobby Beldon hopped in his car and headed for town, several glorious days of idleness ahead of him. He was proud of his wheels: a '62 Buick Skylark convertible, cherry apple red, with hardly any rust on the chassis. Bobby had started saving for his first car when he began delivering newspapers at age 9, and the past two summers on the boat had finally given him enough to secure his longed-for independence. Bobby loved his car. It ran like a watch and was a reliable chick magnet with a conveniently large back seat.

Cruising with the top down on the main street of Cedar Cove, on his way to nowhere in particular, Bobby was feeling good. Ahead on his right he saw a familiar figure walking – sashaying, actually – down the sidewalk. She was wearing jeans and a halter top and sneakers, and her hair was in a high ponytail. With the pinpoint focus of a Navy gunner zeroed in on his prey, he guided the Belvedere closer to the side of the road. He followed just behind her for a few yards. Then he unleashed his signature move, gunning his engine and racing ahead, then screeching to a halt half a block further down. He was idling, looking cool, when Peggy Callaghan caught up with him.

"Hey," he said casually.

"Hello." Her voice was cool, and she didn't stop walking.

Bobby stepped on the gas slightly, following alongside her. She quickened her pace, pointedly not looking at the boy in the car next to her.

"Want a ride?"

"No, thank you. I'm not going that far."

Bobby grinned. "Whatsa matter? Scared to ride alone in a car with a boy?"

She stopped abruptly and turned to face him. He tapped the brake.

"I'm not afraid. I'm just not very interested in fast cars." She shrugged and tossed her ponytail emphatically as she turned and entered the nearest shop.

Scowling, Bobby drove back home and parked the Skylark in the driveway. He kicked the front tire on his way into the house.

* * *

The first beach party was the unofficial start of summer, something Bobby looked forward to every year. At dusk on Friday, the teenagers started congregating on a less-public stretch of shoreline, coolers in tow. By 10:30, when Bobby made his grand entrance, things were starting to swing. There were little knots of teens clustered round a big bonfire, pop bottles and beer cans in hand. Somebody had brought a transistor radio, of course, and plenty of kids were dancing in the light of the flickering fire. Peggy was there with Laurie. She stood near the fire, sipping on a bottle of 7-Up. She wore a white mini-dress and had a pink sweater of some soft material draped over her shoulders. Watching from a distance, Bobby wondered what that pink softness would feel like under his fingertips. He wondered how her hair smelled. He wondered what made her laugh and smile and if she'd ever been kissed.

He wondered why he was having such a lousy time at the first party of the year.

Dean sidled up to him and handed him a long neck to replace his empty can. "You're looking a little glum, chief," he commented.

Bobby shrugged. "Not in the mood, I guess." Across the fire, Linda was giving him the eye. He returned a half-hearted smile.

"So what happened to your plan to make the new girl, Peggy Callaghan?" Dean goaded.

His companion's expression darkened. He took a long draw on his beer. "Aw, she's untouchable. I think she's going to be a nun or something."

"Oh, yeah? I'm surprised to hear that. She went out with Lenny last week. He said they had a _real_ good time." For some reason, the knowing smirk that accompanied Dean's words made Bobby want to punch him in the face.

"Lenny's blowin' smoke out his ass. Peggy Callaghan isn't that kind of girl," he said hotly, even though he really had no idea what kind of girl Peggy was, and it didn't seem likely he ever would.

"Whatever you say, man. I'm just reporting the news." Perhaps sensing his friend's growing simmer, Dean drifted over to another gang of kids, leaving Bobby to sulk alone. He saw Mike Simmons approach Peggy and say something to her. She smiled and followed him onto the makeshift "dance floor." She was good dancer, her young body swaying sinuously to the beat of "Girl, Beautiful Girl" by The Lovin' Spoonful. Bobby went and got another beer.

Peggy Callaghan danced a lot that night, but not with Bobby Beldon. Eventually Linda Thomas pulled him into the mob of gyrating dancers, but he was already three sheets to the wind by then, and pretty sloppy on his feet. When "Girl, You'll Be a Woman Soon" came on and the couples moved together for a slow dance/grope session, Linda draped her arms around his neck and his big hands found her backside. Through bleary eyes he saw that Peggy was apparently sitting this one out; she was nowhere to be seen among the overheated bodies on the sand. He wondered if she was off somewhere with Lenny, or Mike. When Linda tried to draw him into the shadows for more serious petting, he waved her off and stumbled over to the beer cooler.

Some time later, Bobby Beldon found himself on his knees, retching into a clump of weeds. He prided himself on his ability to hold his liquor – his Dad had handed him his first beer at 14, declaring it would put hair on his chest – but he'd gone well over his limit this night. His stomach empty, he half-staggered, half-crawled out of the weeds and lay flat on the sand. Around him, the party was beginning to disperse. He heard muffled voices: Dean and his girlfriend Sandy, Joe, a few others he didn't recognize. Then, from somewhere close by, one voice stood out. "He can't drive home like this."

It was Peggy Callaghan, and her voice was surprisingly concerned. Bobby turned his face into the sand, sick with shame to have her see him like this. Joe's laugh barked over his prone body. "Nah, he'll sleep it off here on the beach. I've got his keys, just in case he comes to." That was the last sound Bobby heard before darkness closed over him. His last thought before he passed out was that this was shaping up to be the worst summer of his life.

A few hours later, as dawn was breaking, Bobby Beldon woke up on the beach with a screaming headache, a mouthful of sand and a soft, warm, pink sweater laying over him.

* * *

Bobby was scarce around Cedar Cove the next couple of weeks – in part because the boats were back and he was working, but mostly because he was afraid he might run into Peggy Callaghan. He couldn't face her. She surely thought he was the biggest dope in the world. She must despise him. She and Lenny were probably going steady by now. His Dad had plenty of money; she'd probably marry Lenny and live happily ever after in a big house in Orchard Bay. Good for her.

But … there was the sweater.

He'd folded it up carefully and tucked it in the glove compartment of the Skylark. He'd have to get it back to her somehow. Maybe he could send it in the mail. Or ask Lenny to give it to her.

Hell would freeze over first.

Bobby worried over it through a long, long shift on the boat. When he got home, dog-tired, he jumped in the shower. Afterwards he slipped into jeans and his favorite paisley shirt and drove to the Piper house. He parked across the street, then carefully removed the sweater from the glove compartment and carried it to the front gate. There he stopped. It occurred to him to hang the sweater on one of the white pickets and run away. But it looked like it might rain; he didn't want the sweater to get ruined. His hand shaking a little, he opened the gate and stepped into the yard. He stopped again.

There were lights on in the house, but no movement that he could see. He took a step toward the house. Another one. His heart was pounding and his palms were sweating. This was no good. He couldn't face her like this. Get ahold of yourself, boy, he growled internally.

A glider swing was placed about halfway between the street and the house, just off the sidewalk. Bobby made his way to it and sat down. He'd just sit a minute and gather his courage.

He sat a minute. Two minutes. Half an hour. The sun had set by now, and he found himself sitting stock-still in the deepening shadows like some oversized garden gnome. Another 10 minutes and it would be completely dark. Then he could sneak up to the porch, set the sweater on one of the Adirondack chairs and bolt for his car. This was a good plan.

Just then he heard the creak of a screen door. Peggy Callaghan appeared in the glow of the porch light, a bottle of Coca Cola in each hand. He watched her come down off the porch and walk over to him. A smile of puzzled amusement was on her face.

"Bobby Beldon, just how long were you planning to sit out here?" she asked, handing him the Coke.

"Uh … I … I brought back your sweater," he stammered. He held the garment up in his free hand, knowing he looked and sounded like an idiot.

She laughed, a sweet, joyous sound that made Bobby Beldon's heart melt into his shoes. "Thanks," she said, taking it and sitting down next to him. "It's Laurie's. She hasn't spoken to me since I came home without it."

Bobby took a tentative sip of cola. "Thanks for letting me … er … borrow it."

"Looked like you needed it."

"What I really needed was a good, swift kick," Bobby said sheepishly. "I made an ass of myself."

A little laugh again. "I expect you paid for it the next morning." She narrowed her eyes at him playfully. "But I'll keep that kicking part in mind for next time."

Bobby grinned, then chuckled, then grinned again. "Okay." Suddenly shy, he looked down at his hands. "You're a hard girl to impress, Miss Callaghan."

"Maybe you don't need to try so hard, Mr. Beldon."

She was sitting so close to him, he could smell her light floral perfume and feel the warmth of her body next to his. Her face was turned toward him, a sweet smile on her lips. In his whole life, Bobby had never wanted anything more than he wanted to kiss this girl at that very moment.

And so he did.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Opening his eyes, Bob was surprised to discover it had grown dark while he sat and reminisced. Even more surprising, there was a light on in the kitchen. Peggy was home. Through an open window came the smell of Peg's strong coffee and, if he didn't miss his guess, a freshly made loaf of raisin bread. The aromas, the lights of his home – their home – called to him powerfully. But Bob still sat. How could he face his wife after the spectacle he'd put on that afternoon?

The back porch light snapped on and Peggy appeared in the doorway, a mug in each hand. He watched her approach, marveling at how her familiar form still made his heart beat faster.

"Just how long were you planning to sit out here, Bob Beldon?" she said softly.

"Oh … probably the rest of my life."

That laughter, just the same after 40 years. "Guess I should have brought you a blanket, then. Or maybe a sweater."

He looked up at her warm, forgiving smile and thought his heart would explode with love for this beautiful, wonderful woman. He patted the seat beside him and she sat, handing over his mug of coffee. The swing shifted a little as she settled, and he snaked his arm around her shoulders in a pretense of steadying her. She didn't protest.

"So are you going to tell me what that was all about today?" she asked after a moment. "I know you don't really think there's anything going on between me and Moon."

He sighed and stared into his coffee cup. "Nah. I know that." He hesitated, trying to work out in his own mind why he'd reacted so irrationally. "I guess … seeing you together …" He stopped, twisted the mug in his big hands. "Back then, when Colin ... when he did what he did … Moon was there for you, and I wasn't."

"Of course I'm grateful to Moon for happening by when he did. God knows what would have happened if he hadn't. But you couldn't have changed the situation, Bob. You didn't know."

"Because I was sitting in some bar while my wife was being assaulted by my best friend!" Bob's fingers tightened around the handle of the cup. "A man's supposed to protect his wife, Peg. Since the day I met you, all I've wanted, my whole life, was to take care of you, to make you happy. And I've done a piss-poor job of it."

Peggy's slim hand cupped her husband's chin and drew his face up to meet her eyes. "You listen to me, Bob Beldon. You _have_ taken care of me, and you've made me happier than I ever imagined I could be." At his disbelieving head shake, she persisted. "Yes, we've had our ups and downs. But no matter what we went through, I always knew we'd be okay as long as we were together."

She fixed her gaze on his, and Bob was startled by the fierceness he saw there. The strength. "What happened with Colin wasn't your fault. And it wasn't my fault, either. Colin knew we were at our most vulnerable moment, both of us, and he took advantage of that.

"I kept that secret for so long, Bob, and I was wrong. I was so ashamed, convinced that I must have done something to provoke it. And I knew it would hurt you so much to know. I was afraid of what you'd do … to Colin, to yourself. And I thought …" She trailed off, and Bob felt his guts twist as tears glistened in his wife's eyes. "I thought … maybe … you'd be disgusted with me. That you'd never want to be close to me again."

Bob's eyes widened. He set his mug on the ground and reached his other arm around Peggy, pulling her close. "God, Peggy. I could never think that. What that bastard did to you – I'd kill him right now if I could get my hands on him – but it could never affect how I feel about you."

Peggy lay her head on Bob's chest and he felt a sharp burn of tears in his own eyes as he rocked her gently and brushed his lips against her forehead, overwhelmed with a tenderness he couldn't express in words. "You know I'm not a hearts-and-flowers type of guy, Peg," he murmured. "And I can be an ornery cuss. But you've got to know, you're … you're just everything in the world to me, Peggy." His voice cracked a little as he spoke. He felt her smile against his chest.

"Yeah, I know," she whispered. After a minute more of snuggling, Peggy sat up and brushed at her eyes with her palms, chuckling self-consciously. "I must look a mess."

"You look beautiful. Always."

"Flatterer." She gave him a playful poke. "Maybe I should have lunch with Moon more often."

Her husband cocked his head and lowered his brows at her. "Very funny. Meanwhile, I see a groveling apology in my future. I just hope I haven't ruined your business partnership with him."

"The only partner I have – business or otherwise – is you. Anyway, I think Moon understood where you were coming from better than I did. When I came stomping back to the table after our little battle, he calmed me down and told me some bizarre story about when he was in a commune in San Francisco in the 60s – to be honest, I didn't really follow it; you know how Moon is – but the upshot seemed to be that he knew you were defending your lady's honor, and he approved."

"He's a good man," Bob said. "A strange man, but a good one."

"You don't really mind that I've started a catering business, do you?" Peggy asked.

"No, of course not. I'm sorry I've been such a bear lately. I guess it just scared me a little to see you getting so independent. I worry that maybe you won't need this old goat around anymore."

"Ahem. First of all, Bob Beldon, I have always been an independent woman." She gave him a little punch on the arm to emphasize her point.

"Don't I know it," he grinned, thinking back to that first summer. "And secondly?"

"And secondly – and most importantly," She idly ran her fingers through the silver bristles at the back of his neck, causing a little thrill of goosebumps to roll over him. "I will _always_ need this old goat around."

"Yeah?"

She massaged the back of his neck gently, a little sensually. "Yeah. Otherwise, who'd taste-test my products before I take them to market?"

"I love you, Peggy."

"I love you, Bob."

They sat in companionable silence a few more minutes as a bright half-moon rose over the distant treeline. "You know, we shared our first kiss on a swing a lot like this back at your uncle's house," Bob said after a while.

"I remember," Peg said, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Our first kiss … and our second … and our third …"

"I think we'd still be sitting there necking right now if your uncle hadn't come out and thrown a bucket of cold water over us."

They laughed together at the precious memory and Bob pulled his wife a little closer. "One good thing about being two old married folks," he remarked.

"What's that?"

"Your uncle isn't here now."

He smothered her giggle with kisses. Above the Thyme & Tide, the sky spangled with stars over two soulmates.


End file.
